Archive for September 27th, 2005

Living With The Postgrads

New housemates are all doing Masters courses. Hence calling them “postgrads” to distinguish between the “flatmates” (in Caerleon over the summer) and the “housemates” from last year.

I have to say, things looked pretty ominous when they first turned up, because unwarranted posters suddenly turned up, which put Paul on edge (but that’s going to be fine, because I’ve got a 2×3 foot print of The Garden of Earthly Delights by dear old Ronnie Bosch, which I think will look nice in the kitchen.

The real warning came when they moved all our spices onto the edge of one of the shelves above the worktop, where they were a) impossible to tell apart and b) in grave danger of falling off. So we moved them back down again.

And they moved them up. So we moved them down, and they moved them up. Last night, it happened again, so we moved them down, and left a note reading Guys, if you put our spices on the shelf then [points given above]. Please leave our stuff alone!, because we were well sick of it.

Today, on returning from Booker, I discovered the following: Sorry we moved things but we only did it as there is no worktop space. Can you please put all recycling neatly in bags & tidy up washing up! This is only fair as we need space to do things. Also can the bin bags please be returned to on top f the fridge! Thank you.

Which, if nothing else, suggests they are at least aware of the less vague social niceties. Indeed, it’d be a cracking good note, if there wasn’t a good four foot of spare worksurface down one side of the kitchen, but never mind. It does, at least, look as if they may not be quite the arrogant brainless twerps I’d begun to suspect them to be, which is good, because I’m not really in the mood for pitched battles on the domestic front…

Also, I remain very tired, have to register at some point tomorrow, and the chair they’ve given me in PJM is terrible, and relies on a screw thread to hold the back steady, meaning that it tilts back as soon as you put any real weight on it, in a not-good-for-your-backish way.

Hey ho.